Nevertheless, my mood was upbeat. I was packing to go home.

Sunday night’s abduction had left me with abrasions and a possible concussion. The latter had mandated twenty-four hours of hospitalization.

While under observation, hooked to IVs and very cranky, I’d gotten the story piecemeal. Mostly from Ryan.

One heroine in the tale was Nora, the conspiratorial desk clerk. Through the hotel’s front entrance, Nora saw a man flatten me against a truck and yank my purse from my shoulder. Thinking she was witnessing a mugging, and still in Dick Tracy mode, she’d noted the license and phoned the cops.

When the plate came back registered to Horace Tyne, someone told Rainwater. Rainwater told Ryan.

During one of their long stretches together, Itchy and Scratchy had discussed my double-motivation theory, decided it had merit. Figured I could be in danger.

About the same time Nora was dropping her dime, Ollie contacted G Division. He’d also considered the possibility that I might be right. And therefore in danger.

I have to admit, these guys moved fast. Rainwater contacted Corporal Schultz out in Behchoko. He checked Tyne’s house, reported no truck in the drive.

Ryan remembered Tyne’s part-time job as a security guard at the Giant gold mine. Rainwater remembered the barrels of arsenic being stored underground. Both agreed that sounded bad. Told Ollie.

Ollie commandeered a rental car and sped from the airport. Ryan snagged a ride from Chalker and raced from headquarters.

The trio converged on Giant simultaneously. Just as Tyne was returning to the shaft with a crowbar and a Remington 700 bolt-action rifle.

The locomotive that ran me over was Chalker. He knocked me clear so Ollie could get off a shot at Fast. Turned out the guy was solid all along. Just doing his job as a cop and as a member of Snook’s exceedingly extended family.

Two ambulances hit Stanton Territorial at the same time. Fast remained there. Tyne was in a cell at G Division.

And I was at the Explorer, throwing panties and socks into my roll-aboard. I’d called Constable Chalker to thank him for throwing himself into the line of fire to shove me out of the way. He’d said I was welcome.

I was collecting toiletries from the bathroom when I heard a knock. Thinking it was Ryan, I hurried to the door.

Ollie stood in the hallway, a Whitman’s sampler in one hand. “Didn’t think flowers would travel well.” He proffered his gift. “Not Godiva, but selection here sucks.”

“Chocolate is always good.” I took the box.

“You doing OK?”

“I am.”

“You look like someone pulled your life support.”

“Thanks.”

Ollie glanced past me into the room.

“Would you like to come in?” I stepped back.

Ollie entered and dropped into a chair.

“Did you find out how Scar got to Yellowknife so fast?” Not important. But the detail had been bugging me.